


Devilish

by notionally



Category: GOT7
Genre: Demons, Dubious Consent, Erotic Horror, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scared Therefore Horny, Scared but Horny, Shameless Smut, Smut, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 02:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17951762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notionally/pseuds/notionally
Summary: Jaebum's feeling a little sexually frustrated. A demon named Mark appears to help him out -- or not.





	Devilish

 

 

 

It’s a cold night, much colder than it’s been in a while. Jaebum shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat. He really wishes he’d remembered to bring a pair of gloves. But Jinyoung had sent one text —  _ dinner?  _ — and he’d dropped everything and basically bolted across campus to meet him.

The street lights flicker, giving off a low crackling whine as they do. There’s a split second when the park Jaebum is stomping through is plunged into darkness. A shadowy movement darts across the corner of his vision — makes Jaebum whip his head round in surprise. The hairs on the back of his neck stand, a shiver of unease shuddering down his spine.

Then the lights come back on, and the park is empty, because of course it is. Because every other university student is probably at a bar, or a club, or on a date. 

It’s not that Jaebum couldn’t go join in the fun, it’s that he doesn’t feel like it. He’d rushed to meet Jinyoung for dinner, only to find that Jinyoung wasn’t looking for a date but just a friend to grab a quick bite with before heading to a party at one of the frat houses. And yeah, Jaebum could have joined in, but that’s not really his scene.

The wind picks up with a howl. Even though Jaebum’s wrapped up in a thick wool coat, he can still feel the biting cold down to his bones. The leaves in the trees rustle, almost like muffled voices whispering out to him. He wonders what they’re saying — or what they would say, if they could speak. The thought worms into his brain like a parasite, and Jaebum tries not to jump when he glimpses his own shadow sliding over the mottled trunk of a tree as he walks past. He’s just imagining the way the wind hisses out his name.

In the distance, a swing set creaks, the rusty squeal of metal scraping against metal piercing into Jaebum’s eardrums. The sound makes his stomach turn. It’s just the playground, he mutters to himself, even as the winds billows and the plaintive wail of the swing set intensifies. Just the playground, he repeats.

But still, his steps speed up, one foot in front of the other, down the same familiar paths and across the same familiar streets, back to his cramped little studio apartment where he can curl up in bed and have a cry — or maybe a wank — over his stupid, hopeless crush on a boy who obviously doesn’t like him back.

That’s not quite fair. Jinyoung likes him just fine — certainly fine enough to have casual sex with every so often. And Jaebum enjoys having sex with Jinyoung, who’s charming and adventurous and just the right amount of emotionally unavailable that makes Jaebum crave more. But recently he’s been thinking that maybe he wants a bit more than that — a date night, perhaps, or some hand-holding — and the fact that Jinyoung very, very clearly  _ doesn’t  _ want that makes Jaebum feel a gross curl of shame in his gut.

What he really needs, Jaebum thinks, is to get over Jinyoung and move on with his life. Focus on his studies, maybe. Find someone who doesn’t make him feel simultaneously horny and pathetic for how horny he feels. But maybe that’s asking too much.

Jaebum sticks the key to his flat into the lock. It jams. It does this sometimes, when it’s cold, and the lock shrinks. Jaebum lets out a grunt of frustration as he hammers his fist against the door once, then twice, shoves his shoulder into the solid block of wood standing between him and being safely ensconced in his home. 

In the time it takes for him to get the lock unstuck, the automatic timer for the lights in the hallway clicks off, and Jaebum is plunged into darkness. A crawl of unease creeps up his spine, slithers up his neck, into his hairline. His scalp tingles from the anxiety. 

But then, with an almighty shove, whatever mechanism in the lock that was keeping the key stuck in place releases, and Jaebum stumbles ungracefully into his flat. He yanks the key out of the lock — stupid old buildings, he grumbles to himself — and slams the door behind him. Gropes blindly along the wall for the light switch.

He toes his shoes off, kicking them into the heap piled up just inside the doorway, making yet another set of scuff marks on the yellowed wall. The lights come on slowly, like they always do — as if they’re just on the verge of giving up completely, but not quite yet. Jaebum’s used to it, used to the thin walls and creaky floorboards, the appliances that break periodically and the heating that goes off without warning. The flat’s a junk heap, but it’s cheap, and it’s saved Jaebum from the hell of having roommates, which he’d experienced in his first two years of university and never wants to experience again.

So he isn’t complaining, not at all, as he shuffles across the flat and flops back onto his bed, face up, arms and legs spread eagled across the mattress. The bed, at least, is large and fairly comfortable, which is all Jaebum can ask for at this point. It’s a bed that Jaebum wouldn’t be embarrassed to have sex with Jinyoung on — unlike his flat, which he  _ would _ be embarrassed to have sex with Jinyoung in — but it doesn’t matter, because Jinyoung’s never shown any desire to do the deed at Jaebum’s place instead of his own.

Jaebum closes his eyes, and lets out a weary sigh. He really needs to stop thinking about Jinyoung. It’s not good for his mental or emotional state — plus it always gets him feeling really aroused and then frustrated about how aroused he’s feeling. He can already feel the twitching in his groin as he thinks about the night he’d  _ thought _ he was going to be having with Jinyoung. Imagines Jinyoung’s plump, red lips wrapped around his cock, or the sly grin he gets on his face when he’s pounding Jaebum into the mattress.

“God,” Jaebum groans, “I really need to get laid.”

He’s not expecting the deep voice that rumbles out from above him — “I can help with that.”

Jaebum’s eyes fly open.

What he sees first is a pair of eyes, glinting mischievously down at him. Then he sees the cheeky grin — teeth bared, two pointy canines peeking out — and the pretty face of a man about his age, staring down at him. 

“Who the fuck are you!” shouts Jaebum. He scrambles to sit upright, which is when he realises that the stranger is straddling his hips, resting his weight heavily on Jaebum’s groin. Despite himself, a twinge of desire shoots through his gut. But that’s neither here nor there — Jaebum gives the intruder a hearty shove. “Get off me!”

He feels large, strong hands press down onto his shoulders, pushing him down into the mattress. The man hovering above him leans forward, so that the tip of his nose almost brushes against Jaebum’s. His knees tighten around Jaebum’s hips, effectively pinning him down. Fear rockets through Jaebum’s core. His heart hammers into his chest so painfully his ribcage starts to ache.

“Let go of me,” Jaebum says, trying to keep his voice steady. But it’s not steady. It shakes. Like Jaebum is shaking. “Who are you?”

The man lets out a light laugh. It almost crackles. “Mark,” he says. “You can call me Mark.”

Jaebum swallows around the growing lump in his throat. “How did you get in here?” he asks. “What do you want?”

Mark’s smile widens. “How did I get in here?” he repeats, like Jaebum’s just asked a ridiculously stupid question. He leans back, which is a relief, in some way, not having his face so close to Jaebum’s. But it also means he’s pressing his weight more firmly into Jaebum’s dick, and that’s — less of a relief. Especially not when Mark stretches his arms lazily over his head, and wriggles his hips down into Jaebum. “I can be anywhere I want,” he purrs.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Funny you should mention hell,” murmurs Mark, in that low, soothing voice of his.

And then he disappears.

Jaebum sits bolt upright, scrambles backwards on the bed until his back is pressed firmly against the headboard. The room is completely empty. His eyes dart around, from the desk in one corner, to the standing lamp in the other, to the wardrobe across the room. Everything untouched. The light hanging from the ceiling sways slightly, or maybe Jaebum’s vision is swimming. The shadows are moving, he thinks. 

Maybe he’s just losing his mind. Maybe there was no intruder named Mark.

But his weight, his warmth, even the puff of his breath against Jaebum’s lips when he’d leaned down and spoken to him — surely all of that was too real to be made up? The crawl of fear that had suffused Jaebum subsides slightly, but it doesn’t go away. His muscles are still tense, his senses still heightened to the slightest sound or flicker or movement.

A loud rattling clunk echoes from one end of the room, and Jaebum whips his entire body round so quickly he thinks he might have pulled a muscle. But there’s nothing there — just his rusty old radiator protesting being made to work. And scaring the shit out of him.

Jaebum tries to unclench his jaw, but it feels like the muscles are locked into place. He presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.

“There’s no one there,” Jaebum scolds himself. “You’re just imagining things.”

He drops his hands from his face, and opens his eyes.

“Missed me?”

Jaebum screams, but Mark launches himself forward, presses one hand over Jaebum’s mouth. They both collapse backwards onto Jaebum’s bed, this time with Mark pressed flush against Jaebum’s body. Mark grins at him. “Don’t look so surprised,” he whispers coyly, “you’re acting like you’ve never seen a demon before.”

Jaebum’s eyes widen. “Demon?” he attempts to mumble against Mark’s hand, which is clamped down extremely firmly against his mouth. It’s almost making it hard to breathe. Or maybe that’s just the terror coursing through his veins, squeezing his lungs like a vice.

Mark seems to understand him fine, though, and in fact looks utterly delighted to hear Jaebum say the word. “Demon,” he repeats. “An incubus, to be specific. Have you never met one before?”

None of this is making any sense. Jaebum shakes his head as best he can with Mark leaning so much of his weight against his face. Mark chuckles. “You’re cute,” he says. His free hand reaches up, fingers trailing languidly down the side of Jaebum’s face. It raises goosebumps all across Jaebum's skin. “I’m glad you summoned me here.”

Jaebum squirms underneath Mark, manages to pry Mark’s hand off his face. “I didn’t summon anything here!” he shouts, tipping Mark off him. Mark just sits on the bed, cross-legged, pouting at him. Jaebum pushes himself back into the headboard, trying to get as far away from this supposed  _ demon _ as possible.

“Don’t call me a thing,” Mark whines. “It hurts my feelings.”

“I don’t care!” Jaebum screeches, his voice escalating in both pitch and volume. Mark’s sitting between him and the door. He wonders if he can make a run for it. Jinyoung wouldn’t believe him, but sitting shamefully in Jinyoung’s bedroom while Jinyoung looks pityingly at him would be better than  _ this. _

Mark maybe senses what Jaebum is thinking, or maybe he just has no sense of personal space — probably the latter — because he crawls forward, until he’s on all fours, face mere inches away from Jaebum’s. 

“You know,” he says, cocking his head to one side, “for someone who summoned a sex demon, you’re not being very sexy right now.”

Jaebum wants to push Mark away, he really does. But his arms are frozen at his sides, his entire body completely paralysed. He can barely tell if it’s just the panic, or if Mark’s cast some sort of spell on him.

“I — I didn’t summon you,” Jaebum croaks out. 

“Yeah, you did,” breathes Mark, a sly smirk quirking the corners of his mouth. He leans forward, curls his face round until Jaebum can feel the soft brush of lips against his ear. “If you didn’t want me here, I wouldn’t be here. That’s how this works.”

Jaebum can feel the pressure building in his groin. Doesn’t even dare to look down at himself, for fear of what he might see. But the sensation of those lips, barely grazing his skin, the warmth of Mark’s breath and the low, sultry tone of his voice — Jaebum would be lying if he said he wasn’t the slightest bit turned on. 

Also  _ terrified,  _ of course — absolutely, fucking, shit-in-his-pants terrified. But also turned on.

It’s a confusing coil of feelings, and Jaebum’s heart is pounding in his chest, his ears almost ringing with the sound of his blood rushing past his eardrums. Every single nerve in his body is on high alert, the mere brush of Mark’s shirt against the skin on his upper arms enough to make Jaebum so over-stimulated he thinks he might cry.

Wait — Mark’s shirt. Jaebum blinks in confusion. “If you’re a demon, why do you look just like a college kid?” he asks. Presses his head back, craning his neck to get a better look at Mark — in an oversized hoodie and skinny jeans. What kind of demon wears skinny jeans?

Mark rears up on his knees, looks steadily down at Jaebum. “So I don’t scare you, of course,” he says, like it’s totally obvious.

Jaebum snorts. “It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?”

Mark hums contemplatively. “I guess you’re right,” he murmurs, tapping one long finger against his lips — full, dark red lips, like they’ve recently been bitten. “No need for the disguise anymore, then!” He winks at Jaebum.

And then, in the blink of an eye, Mark’s naked.

Jaebum lets out a wail of surprise, his hands flying to his face to cover his eyes. “What the fuck!”

“Look at me,” Mark hisses, his voice suddenly dark and demanding. Jaebum feels his hands being thrown from his face, slammed into the wall above his head. Mark’s not touching him, just has one arm out like he’s exerting some unseen force on Jaebum to keep his arms pinned. 

“Please,” Jaebum moans, trying to squirm out of Mark’s grasp — can he call it that, when Mark doesn’t even have a hand on him? — all the while averting his gaze. He can’t help but notice Mark’s cock, though — large and erect and pointed directly at him. There’s a demon dick staring him in the face, and Jaebum should be the furthest thing from aroused, but yet — he feels the hot swell of desperate longing twisting inside him.

“Look at me,” Mark repeats, and Jaebum drags his eyes back to Mark. He can’t tell if he’s being forced to, or if he’s just — if he just wants to look.

His eyes latch onto the dick first, of course. His mouth dries up at the sight of it — it’s not incredibly long, but it’s girthy, and with a full, glistening head that’s already leaking the tiniest bit of precome. Or whatever the demon equivalent is. Jaebum’s mind conjures up images of himself, on his knees, lips wrapped around that cock. He wonders how much it would stretch out his mouth, how it would feel knocking against the back of his throat.

Jaebum licks his lips. He needs to get a grip. Drags his gaze up from Mark’s dick. But then he’s confronted with the chiselled planes of Mark’s abs, his slender waist, his firm chest. His eyes trail up the well-defined muscles in Mark’s arms, across those prominent, elegant collarbones. And finally, to the smug grin scrawled across his delicate features. 

“Like what you see?” Mark asks, but he’s grinning like he already knows the answer. He lowers his arm, and Jaebum feels the grip on his wrists loosen. He lets his arms fall limply to his sides. 

“No,” Jaebum manages to choke out, his voice a strangled whine.

He’s lying of course. In different circumstances — and if Mark wasn’t an actual fucking  _ demon  _ — Jaebum would let Mark fuck him in a heartbeat. As it is, he really doesn’t want to think about any of that, for obvious reasons. But  _ fuck,  _ Mark’s hot — and Jaebum’s horny, and that’s all that is. His cock aches, straining against the tight denim of his jeans.

Mark reaches up to push his hair back, and that’s when Jaebum sees the two tiny horns poking through the soft brown curls. They’re a dark reddish-brown, short but with a pointy tip. Mark fingers at one of the horns lazily, like he’s noticed Jaebum looking. “Liar,” he teases.

Then Jaebum feels something flicking against his thigh. Looks down, to see the sharp arrowhead tip of a long, snaking tail, swishing against him. Mark has a  _ tail. _ The naked demon in his room has a fucking  _ tail. _

“Oh my god,” Jaebum heaves out. “Oh, my god.”

Mark crawls forward again. His tail slides up along Jaebum’s arm, the tip stroking along the curve of Jaebum’s collarbone. They’ve been here before, Jaebum sitting poker straight against the headboard, Mark crawling all over him. Except this time, Mark is naked, and he has horn and a  _ tail. _

“I’ll ask you again,” Mark breathes, his eyes bright and his lips a hair’s breadth away from Jaebum’s. “Do you like what you see?”

Jaebum doesn’t want to be doing it, he really doesn’t, but he cranes his neck upwards, tilts his face into Mark. His entire body is shuddering with desire. The tension in his groin blazes through his lower abdomen. “Please,” he groans out. His eyes flutter shut. If he doesn’t look at what’s going on, maybe he can pretend it’s not happening.

But Mark leans away slightly, just enough that Jaebum’s lips are chasing his. “I said,” he repeats, “do you like what you see?”

Jaebum lets out a feeble, plaintive whine. “I don’t — I don’t know,” he stammers out.

“Wrong answer,” says Mark.

Jaebum opens his eyes. “Mark,” he breathes. He realises it’s the first time he’s said the demon’s name. 

Mark smirks at him. His tail scrapes gently along Jaebum’s jawline, brushes against his mouth. Despite himself, Jaebum feels his lips fall open, and tongue twitch, desperate for a taste. But then Mark whips his tail away, and Jaebum feels the loss of sensation like a punch to his gut.

“Mark,” he repeats. He hates how high-pitched his voice is, how needy it sounds.

“I’ll be back,” Mark purrs, “if you want me to.”

And then he’s gone.

Jaebum looks around frantically, but no — Mark’s nowhere to be seen. He calls out Mark’s name, gets no response. It’s a couple of desperate, frantic minutes, before Jaebum realises Mark’s actually gone, and he’s not coming back. 

Jaebum’s gaze drops to his crotch, where his dick is painfully hard and desperate to be touched. Jaebum licks his lips, clenches his fists. Tries not to think about Mark’s sharp canines and sparkling eyes, or the way he had felt sitting on top of Jaebum, or the heat of his breath.

Jaebum’s never jerked off to the image of a demon before — but there’s a first time for everything.

He squeezes his eyes shut in shame, uses one hand to unbutton his jeans and undo the zipper. He’s already so keyed up, so on edge, that it doesn’t take long. 

His hand closes around his aching, throbbing cock. Precome leaks from the slit, and Jaebum thumbs at it, spreads it across the head. When he slides his thumb along the ridge at the base of the head, the sensation jolts through him like an electric shock.

Images of Mark, horns and tail and all, flash through his mind. He tips his head back, hand pumping a steady rhythm on his dick. 

“Fuck,” he breathes out shakily. He thinks about Mark’s long, slender fingers, scratching their way down the sides of his body. Thinks about the sharp points of Mark’s teeth digging into the flesh of his shoulder. Thinks about that sharp arrowhead tail flicking aggressively against his tender, hardened nipples.

“Mark,” he moans. It’s almost shameful, hearing the name of that demon on his lips. Jaebum takes a rattling inhale, his eyes still squeezed shit, and the hand wrapped around himself moving faster and faster. “Mark,” he exhales again. The name of his demon. No,  _ the  _ demon. But Jaebum likes the thought of Mark being his demon.  _ His demon. _

“Mark,” he groans out, voice cracking. “Mark, Mark, Mark.”

Jaebum comes with a violent jerk, and a choking grunt of pleasure. All the muscles in his stomach clench, and his fist tightens almost painfully around his dick. He spurts into his hand, onto his shirt, some of it getting onto his jeans, onto the bed. It’s a fucking mess.

He collapses back into the bed, hand still resting loosely around his cock. Shame floods through him, burns through his gut and across his cheeks. But so does the heady haze of satisfaction.

Mark’s parting words ring out in Jaebum’s head —  _ I’ll be back, if you want me to. _

Jaebum doesn’t dare say the words out loud, so he just thinks them.

_ I want you to, _ he whispers internally.  _ I want you to. _

And maybe Jaebum's mind is just playing tricks on him — but the lights in his room flicker faintly in response. The wind howls out his name.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I wrote this except that I saw the phrase "erotic horror" somewhere and really wanted to play around with it. I was going to make this a two- or three- shot but I lost the motivation to, so here it is as a standalone teaser of a piece. I may add to it one day, but I may not. *shrug*
> 
> hope you liked it anyway! please leave kudos/comments if you did, and come talk to me @notionxally on twitter or cc


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